Interruptions
by A Rice Ball In A Sailor Suit
Summary: John really needs to find a new way of entertaining Sherlock. 6 Chapter piece. M for swearing but mainly for last chapter. Slash. Doesn't contain spoilers.


**Welcome to my first Sherlock fic!**

**Sorry its bad and the end is rushed, it was very hard to keep them in character.**

**Written for Anne - The person who forced me to write this piece. **

**Don't own Sherlock.**

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><p>It started with a gun.<p>

A small handgun and Mrs Hudson's wall were all the ingredients in Sherlock's favourite pastime when there wasn't a murder, although even that wasn't the number one thing to do. That had been replaced by John. In the 2 weeks, 2 days, 1 hour and 8 minutes since John first kissed him, Sherlock had gained a new hobby and surprised John by showing his submissive side that lay beneath the calm and controlling exterior. Of course, he was still very commanding and dominant when he wanted to be, but John always woke up with the tall and lanky consultant detective curled into his side. John still smiles when he imagines the way the faint morning light highlights his features. He never tells Sherlock this, it would surely lead to teasing. The loveable git doesn't give him a break just because he's his lover.

Shit, how did that happen? He is now Sherlock Holmes'_ lover_. Sherlock is a guy, an asexual one at that and John is straight. None of these things add up to 'hey, I'm now shagging my very male flatmate, the same very male flatmate which is about to shoot the wall of our flat to pieces'. He really did need to learn to hide the gun better. Then again, knowing Sherlock, he'd still find it. Distracting him was the best option, curing that boredom of his, but of course that was almost impossible. Unless...

'John!' Sherlock gasped when he found himself falling against soft cushions, the gun falling from his hand. He bent to pick it back up only to find John pinning him to the back of the sofa, softly muttering 'tut-tut' and wagging his finger in disapproval before placing a chaste kiss against Sherlock's lips to silence any complaints. He pulled back when he felt the other man begin to kiss back, laughing at the slight whimper Sherlock made, but he remained straddling his lap.

'You need to learn to stop shooting the walls.'

'I was bored. We haven't had a case in 6 days.'

'There just isn't enough murder in the world for you is there?'

'There are always murders, John, just unoriginal killers with the same old ideas. Stabbing through the chest, poisoning their food, bullet to the head, it's all just so dull.' John rolled his eyes at the detective's outlook. He'd never known anyone who would be more concerned with the way someone was killed instead of the fact they were killed in the first place.

'That's not the po- you know what? It doesn't matter; you probably wouldn't pay attention anyway.'

'Well of course, I would probably just delete it.'

'Like you did with the solar system?'

'It was unimportant.'

'Sherlock! It is bas- mmph!' His rant was cut short by two strong hands grabbing the collar of his jumper and pulling him into a forceful kiss.

'John, please stop talking, it can be very distracting.' Sherlock muttered. 'I can't help but stare at your lips.' John felt a blush creep up his neck. Sherlock smiled at him, one hand coming up to rest his palm against John's cheek and let his fingers tangle in his hair. His other hand fell to John's hip and pulled the older male against him. John gasped when their hips collided. Sherlock smirked when he felt something press against him, the effect his action had becoming obvious. A good boyfriend would help him out with that.

But he was the great Sherlock Holmes, he wasn't like anyone else.

'Excuse me, I have to do something.' He pushed John off his lap with a light push and walked calmly away to the window, pulling his phone out of his pocket and flicking through old texts aimlessly. John watched him, mouth agape.

'You... but... Sherlock!' John whined. Sherlock barely glanced up from his phone.

'I thought it could have been Lestrade.'

'Your phone didn't ring.'

'It was in my pocket and you were distracted, you could have easily not heard the sound. I felt it vibrate.'

'It would have rang for a while, I would have eventually heard it.'

'It could have been a text.'

'If it had been a text you would have been out of that door before I had a say in it.'

'Do you ever get a say in anything?'

'Does anyone when it comes to you?' Sherlock smiled.

'Ah, John, you know the answer to that already.' He put his phone back in his pocket and slowly approached his flatmate.

'You can be really infuriating sometimes, you know that?' John began to walk a few steps closer until they were practically touching.

'You say that but you're still here.' Sherlock took the last step closer.

'I must be out of my mind.' John reached up and tugged lightly on Sherlock's collar to close the gap.

'I wouldn't have it any other way.' Sherlock muttered before finally pressing his lips against Johns.

The next few minutes were slow, delicate, as the kiss remained calm. Their lips were just pressed gently against each other, lips barely moving, torturously slow. Eventually Sherlock took control, pushing John back with his body until he hit the wall that was previously going to be used as Sherlock's target, their lips never breaking contact. He let his hands rest on John's hips, letting his spider like fingers slip under the denim of his jeans. The feeling of Sherlock's cold flesh against John's heated own sent shivers up his spine. John moaned when the hands travelled higher, gliding across his chest under the fabric of his shirt.

Sherlock pulled back and studied John like one of the bodies he examines for a living. He noted how Johns lips remained parted, his pupils were dilated more than required for the amount of light in the room, his breathing was ragged and his pants had clearly grown a lot tighter in the last few minutes. Sherlock took John's hand in his own and laced their fingers together when he began to squirm under Sherlock's gaze in an attempt to calm him. His other hand rested upon John's cheek and his thumb began to stroke the skin softly. He leaned closer once more but still left a few inches space between them, neither hand moving from their previous position.

'Shh, John, it's okay. Just relax.' He whispered gently. He moved back slightly, hands still unmoving, to allow John to take the next step. Despite having had sex multiple times since their relationship started, Sherlock still knew that John was still not entirely comfortable. He still had many insecurities, most of which he tried to hide, even from himself in some cases, but Sherlock could always see the truth, after all it was his job. He could always tell when John didn't come out of his room that he was staring at his many scars, mainly the one on his shoulder, with a frown on his face. The ugly reminders from the war would never fade and it was something John always despised, but Sherlock loved. He found them beautiful. They showed John's vulnerability, something that was always hid from the world. Or at least John attempted to hide from the world. He was never very good at it, but then again Sherlock was a genius and would work it out anyway. He could always see the truth beyond the lies. And the truth was something Sherlock desired for about John more than anything, it made him more human, more beautiful. It showed Sherlock that he wasn't always as cold hearted as he made himself seem. There was a heart somewhere under everything else he needed simply for transport. Although Sherlock would never admit it, it could be used against him. Mainly by his brother, Mycroft always needed something new to torture him with. But an enemy could always use it to. He may love John's scars but he didn't want to do anything that would add to them.

Instead he treasured the ones already there. Feeling John relax, he released his hand and began to undo the buttons on his shirt slowly; grateful today was one of those rare times when he wasn't wearing one of his tacky jumpers. Sherlock may love the guy, but there was still only so much he could take. He pushed the shirt down his lovers arms gently, watching as it slid off his arms and fell to the floor. He then crouched down and placed kissed over the many scars that covered John's chest, feeling him relax more into his touch, his fingers going back to entwine with John's.

John let himself go, allowing all the pent up anger he was feeling slip away and blocked everything else out. The sound of the breeze rolling softly through the window, the sound of the latch on the front door clicking... none of it mattered in that moment.

Sherlock continued to kiss the scars, smiling against John's chest when the other man began to moan softly. He continued, glancing up through his eyelashes occasionally to watch as John's stress melted away from his features to be replaced by pure pleasure. It was only when he tensed completely that he stopped.

He stood up instantly, his hands turning John's head to make him look him in the eye. 'John? What's wrong?'

John continued to stare at him with a look of horror on his face. His eyes began to flick towards the doorway and back, communicating silently. Realisation dawned on Sherlock's face as he turned slowly towards the door.

'Hello boys...' Mrs Hudson stood with a huge smile on her face, two bags of shopping in each hand. 'I just thought you'd need a few things, didn't mean to interrupt anything.' She looked the pair up and down before walking into the kitchen and packing the items away. Her lodgers remained frozen in the living room, blushes beginning to appear on both faces.

'Sherlock, please stop putting your experiments in the fridge, it's unhygienic... John, dear, you really need to finish that pie I made you before it goes stale...' Mrs Hudson carried on, as if she hadn't just walked in on what could have potentially been an amazing night for her boys. She shuffled around a little more before walking back into the living room, the pair now having sat down on opposite sides of the room (John with his shirt back on), each avoiding the others gaze. She shook her head with a smile.

'Come along boys, it's not all bad. Thanks to you Mrs Turner now owes me £50, so you don't owe me for your shopping.' She laughed slightly before leaving the flat, shutting the door firmly behind her.

John and Sherlock glanced at each other for a split second when John sighed.

'So much for keeping this a bloody secret.'


End file.
